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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958775">sweetheart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevener/pseuds/sevener'>sevener</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it only gets sweeter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hockey RPF, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Light) Feminization, A Dash of Gender, A Dash of Internalized Everything, Aftercare, Dirty Talk, First Time, Kink Discovery, Lap Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, You Know For Spice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:20:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevener/pseuds/sevener</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Schofield shouldn’t be able to just… pick him up and put him where he wants him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OMC/OMC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>it only gets sweeter [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>242</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>sweetheart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've got like 8 WIPs going so of course the only thing I'm able to finish is a throwaway idea I thought I gave up on a year ago. Thanks brain.<br/>All mistakes are my own!</p><p>Content Notes (some spoilers) : This story features under-negotiated kink, including elements of feminization and power play which are never discussed beforehand. The POV character experiences uncertainty about his sexuality and internalized shame related to both the sex act itself and the kink elements he's engaging with. When this comes up during the scene his sexual partner pauses and checks in with him, and they both consent to continue from that point. The POV character also experiences the edges of something like sub-drop after the scene ends.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It starts with beers and the guys piling into his apartment, a C.O.D. tournament that turns into a Chel round robin somewhere along the way. Zach’s small couch fills up quick, a handful of guys forced to sprawl out on the floor for space. Gravy and Cale cram themselves haphazardly into one overstuffed recliner and lord it over the rest of them. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Zach sure as hell isn't going to sit on the floor. For fuck's sake, <em>he's</em> the one paying for the goddamn couch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He manages to wedge himself between Schofield and NateMac on the sofa instead— it’s a bit of a squeeze, seeing as none of them are exactly small guys, but with a bit of shuffling Zach makes it work.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn't occur to him that the space might've been left there on purpose. Up on the flat screen Schof and Nate face off for the third period. Zach has about thirty seconds to bask in the glory of a (sort of) comfortable seat before Nate sticks him with an elbow right to the ribs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach promptly chokes on his beer and leans away reflexively, right into Schofield on his other side. He gets shoved right back across the couch with an annoyed grunt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nate is nearly out of his seat in the next second, fist pumping as the goal horn blasts from the TV and a little pixelated version of himself dances along on screen. Schof curses him out violently, turning to shoot Zach a look of pure disgust.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You just had to fucking sit here Saunders?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach shrugs nonchalantly, unwilling to admit defeat. “I live here dude, learn to play through a little adversity.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof glares.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll fucking show you a little adversity.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The guy's seriously the pissiest loser, but Zach isn't about to apologize for something that's not even his fault just to make him feel better about a <em>video game</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s attention is quickly drawn back to the screen anyway, and the play starts again. Zach thinks maybe, <em>maybe</em> that'll be it, and then the puck gets swept into a corner. Schof smashes the buttons of his remote viciously, bringing his elbows up in an exaggerated effort and catching Zach right in the side. This time Zach's pretty sure it's on purpose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude!” Zach complains, shoving him away. Schof grunts and puts his weight behind his next push, and Zach finds himself pressed suddenly back against Nate, who swears and tries to bring his own arms up defensively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck yes!” Schof cheers as Nate fumbles his remote, and he beats Varly gloveside to even up the score. Nate grumbles and nudges Zach off indelicately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously?” Zach rounds on Schof, who rolls his eyes in response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You big baby.” he sighs. “Fine, just—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And. Zach’s a big guy. Obviously, because he’s an athlete, but also just naturally. He’s tall, and heavyset, with wide shoulders and thick thighs and like, general all-over muscle mass. Schofield shouldn’t be able to just… pick him up and put him where he wants him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He couldn’t even tell you how it happens, really. Big hands land on his hips and then somehow, entirely against his will, Zach is lifted up off the couch, on his feet for just a second before Schof pulls him right back down, right into his lap.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof shifts him a little, so that Zach is positioned at an angle to the TV, half-braced between the arm of the couch and Schof’s solid body, legs tangling together. Zach’s toes barely manage to graze the floor .</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell?” Zach huffs, suddenly breathless and off-balance. He’s just been— he’s just been fucking <em>manhandled</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof ignores him, focused entirely on the over Zach’s shoulder. The play flips over and he leans forward suddenly. Zach is forced to hook his free arm around Schof’s shoulders or else get dumped on the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Zach would just get up—scramble right the fuck out of Schof’s lap—he really would, except that in the next second Schof wraps his arm around Zach to secure him, both hands meeting around the controller Schof has propped on Zach’s left thigh. He hauls Zach back and into position, all without looking at him once. With the way Schof’s eyes are riveted to the screen, Zach’s pretty sure any more interruptions will send him right off the deep end. Better to just keep his seat and keep the peace.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So. That’s how he ends up sitting in Schof’s lap, but it doesn’t really explain why he stays there for the better part of two hours.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">- -</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s just <em>comfortable, </em>is the thing. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach finds the perfect position pretty early on, propped against Schof’s shoulder where he can see the TV without overbalancing or spilling his beer, even when Schof jolts under him suddenly. Kerfy hands him a fresh beer ten minutes in (with a smirk and a raised eyebrow that makes Zach blush for whatever reason), and Zach mostly just fucks around on his phone for the next half hour, halfheartedly defending his drink from Schof’s attempts to steal between puck drops. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally Schof looses to Cale and has to give up the controller. Zach wonders if he’s about to loose his seat, but Schof just plucks the empty from his fingers without comment, grabbing two more from the middle of the table for them before relaxing back into the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach has to re-adjust, and it’s not until he’s settled that he notices Schof’s free hand resting heavy on his hip, steadying him. It’s kind of a nice gesture, making sure Zach doesn’t fall. He smiles and nudges Schof to show him a stupid instagram video on his phone, feels it everywhere when Schof laughs, this low rumble that starts in his chest and rolls through to Zach’s shoulder-blades.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, don’t you two look comfortable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach freezes. Nate is watching them with a raised eyebrow, this weird little smile on his face that makes the back of Zach’s neck prickle with something like embarrassment. He makes to get up off of Schof’s lap, trying to get away from the feeling, but Schof stops him with a hand, sliding from Zach’s hip to press firmly against the middle of his stomach, right down over his core. Zach stops trying to get up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, we are,” Schof says lazily. “You know you’re jealous of this whole situation.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nate wrinkles his nose. “Nah man, you go ahead and keep that situation to yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof rests his other hand—the one holding a beer bottle—casually on Zach’s knee. The bottom of the bottle presses cold through his jeans. “More for me then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So that’s how Zach ends up staying right where he is for another hour and a half, as the xbox remotes slowly make their way around the room in successive games of Chel, and then when someone finally switches the screen to an episode of BoJack Horseman.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(Actually, Zach does get up once— to go to the bathroom. When he gets back to the living room he hesitates, mortifyingly, at the side of the couch, eyes flicking to the still-empty spot between Schof and Nate. Schof notices his awkward falter and—even more mortifying—pats his lap silently in invitation. It feels a lot more charged when Zach settles back against Schof’s chest that time, one of Schof’s big hands pressed to the small of his back to guide him down.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guys start to trickle out as the day wears on, most of them either smirking or raising an eyebrow as they make their goodbyes and thank Zach for hosting. It’s a little bit undignified, but there’s something about Schof’s steadying hand on his knee that convinces Zach not to break the spell just yet. E.J. is the last to leave, shooting them one last assessing, amused look before shutting the door behind him, and then they’re alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now it’s officially weird. Both because they’re basically full-on cuddling on the couch in Zach’s empty apartment, and also because at some point in the afternoon, over the course of getting pulled into Schof’s lap and kept there for the better part of two hours, Zach got half-hard in his pants.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s really hoping Schof hasn’t noticed. He has hopes of making a clean getaway, tries to think of dead things and his grandpa’s feet to will himself down before he stands up, because he knows he’ll die on the spot if anyone ever knows that he had a Jamie-Schofield-induced boner. Especially the man responsible.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” says Schof into the silence, his chin hooked over Zach’s shoulder and mouth fitted right up against his ear. “Tell me now if I’m reading this wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then both of his hands land high up on Zach’s thighs, thumbs pressing just at the inseam of Zach’s jeans. Zach startles, heat racing through him, and his head somehow ends up tipped back on Schof’s shoulder, the length of his neck exposed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Schof digs in with his thumbs. His hands are so, so close to Zach’s dick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach squirms in place, and Schof’s grip hardens. He moves his hands up to Zach’s hips and holds him still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zach,” he growls. “Am I reading this wrong?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s fingers are tucked just under the hem of Zach’s shirt, pressing at the skin just above his dick, the ring finger of his right hand edging under the waistband of his jeans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Zach gasps, trying again to shift around in Schof’s lap, held fast by that unbreakable grip. “No you’re not. I want— Please, just please—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach cuts off with a groan as Schof reaches around to finally grab his dick, his grip hard and unyielding through the front of his jeans. The zipper digs in against skin a little. Schof squeezes tighter, and Zach grunts as all the breath seems to leave his body at once.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this what you want?” Schof asks casually, voice just a little mean. His breath puffs hot at the edge of Zach’s jaw. “God, you need it so bad already, just from sitting on my lap. All spread out where the boys could see it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He squeezes Zach’s dick again, too much and not enough at the same time, and Zach’s hand flies to Schof’s wrist, wraps around it but doesn’t pull his hand away. Just holds on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t—” he gasps, not really sure what he can’t. Schof’s hands squeezing over his thigh and his dick and the burning heat of Schof’s chest at his back, his breath in Zach’s ear. It’s overwhelming, but— Zach wants it all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, can you just—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof keeps pulsing his hand over Zach’s dick, stroking over Zach’s side with the other, rucking his shirt up and drawing goosebumps as he touches everything he can reach. Zach jerks in his grip when Schof’s thumbnail catches at a nipple.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach pants, and pushes into Schof’s hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you <em>please</em> just touch my dick.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It comes out in a rush, desperate, and Schof laughs into his neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it bad already, huh?” Schof hums. “Just from sitting all pretty on top of me. Look so good like this Saunders.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The words send shivers down Zach’s spine, blood rushing hot to his cheeks as he tries to duck his head. He’s not— he’s not <em>pretty. </em>He’s a big-ass, grown-ass man, sitting in another man’s lap and begging to be jerked off. Fuckin’ embarrassing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof catches his jaw before he can duck his chin, fingers spreading over his throat as he pulls Zach’s head back until it hits the couch again. Teeth dig in against the exposed underside of his jaw.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“None of that now darling,” Schof murmurs, soothing the sting of teeth with his tongue. “No need to be ashamed at sitting perfect for me like this. You just let me make it feel good now, okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That makes Zach blush even harder, but it’s hard to really let the embarrassment sink in when Schof finally starts working at the button of his pants. Zach tilts his hips up eagerly and feels it when Schof smirks against his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The zipper gets stuck about halfway down, and Zach can’t help but let out a little laugh at the absurdity. Schof takes it in good stride, pressing his own smile into Zach’s shoulder and nudging at his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Little help here sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Zach would totally make fun of him for the pet names if they didn’t make heat flood his face every time, so he keeps his mouth shut and tugs at the old metal. Together they manage to get it down far enough for him to shimmy his pants down his thighs. It gets a little real, then, with his thumbs hooked in the elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs, as it suddenly hits him that he’s panting for another dude’s hands on his dick, while sitting in said dude’s lap, and Zach stalls out. This afternoon, he thinks a little hysterically, has really gone off the fucking rails.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof makes a small, interested noise into the back of his neck, one palm covering the bare skin of Zach’s stomach and the other steady around his thigh, and when Zach shifts he’s acutely aware of the pressure of Schof’s hard dick straining through his jeans, nudging against the seat of Zach’s ass, and that’s when it really starts to feel like he’s in danger of floating right up out of his body.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s hand stops moving on his belly and come to rest on his thigh, a mirror image of the other just above his knee. Schof’s nose nudges gently against the shell of his ear.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay Zach?” he asks quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that helps. Having Schof’s hands somewhere safe. Well- safer. Zach takes a deep breath, trying to re-settle in his skin. His heartbeat slows to pound just a little less frantically in his throat, and even more when he gently rests both hands over Schof’s on his thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can stop,” Schof says calmly. “Need to stop?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach swallows. He’s still hard, still wants Schof’s hand on his dick, as fucked up as that is. He’s not really panicking—he just needed a minute.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We don’t need to stop,” Zach answers as steadily as he can. “I’m good. Are you good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s mouth presses a quick kiss under his ear. “I’m good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Zach says, nonsensically.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a pause, and Schof’s hands stay pressed to Zach’s denim-clad thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want me to, uh, stop talking about it?” Schof finally asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach colours. He knows what Schof’s really asking, which is whether he should stop murmuring low in Zach’s ear, stop calling him things like <em>sweetheart </em>and <em>darling</em> and getting Zach to beg for it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No it’s— Good, talking’s good,” Zach stammers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s hands finally move, then, to pet back over his stomach and higher, his left hand coming to cup and grope at Zach’s peck under his shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah?” Schof murmurs, low and interested. “You like it when I talk sweet like this to you? That’s all good with me baby, I got no problem complementing the pretty little thing who’s been crawling all over my lap all day, getting me so hard I can barely think.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Zach <em>burns. </em>His hand lands in a vicegrip around Schof’s right forearm, holding on desperately as Schof’s hand slowly makes its way into his underwear, not stopping him. Not when it feels this good, Schof’s fingers finally closing over his dick and drawing out a moan, the sound stark and overly loud in his empty living room. Schof’s other hand is still holding his chest, cupping and squeezing like he likes the feeling of muscle and skin there, and Zach doesn’t know what to <em>do</em>, can’t do anything but squirm restlessly under Schof’s hands, unsure if he wants to get away from the sensations or closer to them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Even making me hard right now,” Schof bites out, his hand moving over Zach’s dick in long, slow pulls that aren’t anywhere near enough. “Rubbing all over my dick like that. Makes me think of what else we could do like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s hips push up against his ass as his hand pulls tight on the downstroke, and suddenly Zach can see it too— how they could fuck just like this, Schof’s arms around him, pulling Zach down to sit on his dick, how he’d just have to rock slowly against Schof until they both came. It sparks equal parts apprehension and hot lust in the pit of Zach’s stomach, and he moans even he tenses up, caught between the push and pull.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof releases his chest and trails a soothing hand across Zach’s ribs, hips still pushing at Zach’s ass but without any urgency; just a lazy, pleasure-slow grind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“S’too soon for that sweetheart, I know,” Schof whispers against his cheek. “Just this, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He speeds his hand up on Zach’s dick for emphasis, and Zach can’t take it anymore, twists his neck as far as he can under Schof’s grip to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Schof’s slack mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Feels so good,” Zach tells him breathlessly, pressing the corner of their foreheads together, and Schof’s eyes darken from dumbstruck to pure, molten heat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna see you come,” Schof whispers, eyes never leaving from Zach’s. “Wanna be the reason you make a mess of yourself, feel you get your panties all wet for me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach whines, more desperate to come now than he’s ever been in his entire life. Schof smiles, wide and bright and sharp, and brings his other hand down to tug at Zach’s balls. “You look so good like this already, Zach, wanna see that pretty face of yours while you come all over yourself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it’s that—his name, not baby or darling or sweetheart—his name in Schof’s mouth as he asks to see Zach come, as he tells Zach how pretty he is. Zach shoots off in his pants like a teenager while Schof holds him down, one hand still pulling at Zach’s dick until Zach whines and twists away, Schof chuckling softly but letting him go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Prettiest O-face in the game,” Schof tells him, nuzzling softly behind Zach’s ear. Zach doesn’t believe it for a second: nobody has a pretty o-face, that’s why it’s called an o-face in the first place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s distracted from relaying this point to Schof, however, by the feeling of a hard dick pressing at the small of his back, Schof’s hips moving in small, mindless circles against him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach settles back against Schof’s chest, revelling at the tiny, desperate grunt that Schof lets out at the increased pressure, and tucks his face into the smooth column of Schof’s neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven’t come yet,” he whispers, low.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kind of an obvious thing to say, yeah, but Zach hasn’t quite decided what he wants to do about it yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I haven’t,” Schof whispers back, and then stills his hips as he seems to realize something. “You can go on and let me up, Saunders, I'll just take care of this in the bathroom. No bigs.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach already misses his name in Schof’s mouth. Its absence makes him frown.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” he says. “No, just— Here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits up and swings himself sideways in Schof’s lap, his thighs resting perpendicular across Schof’s. He makes an abstract, encouraging gesture with his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, I wanna see too. Go ahead.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof squints at him for a second, then gets his hand down his pants with a shrug. He kind of half-glances at Zach, his hand moving unambiguously under the fabric, like he’s not sure how comfortable Zach is with <em>knowing </em>that Schof is jerking off thinking about him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach clears his throat awkwardly. This is very different—and somehow, less sexy—face to face, and he has no idea what to do with his hands, or his eyes, or his general existence in this moment. He can hear the skin-on-skin noises of Schof’s hand moving on his dick. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um,” he says out loud, and Schof looks up at him. Zach swallows, and then steels himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could you, um. Pull your underwear down so I can see?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His cheeks and ears burn hot immediately, but Schof doesn’t look weirded out or bothered by the request. He smiles, lifts his hips and slides both his pants and underwear down so that he’s completely exposed, ass out on Zach’s couch, which is not something Zach’s going to think about right now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What he is going to think about is Schof’s dick, within touching distance and looking just about ready to burst. Schof is leaking, the tip of his dick flushed dark and his balls a heavy swell underneath the rest of it. Zach definitely stares right at Shof’s dick for too long. It’s kinda hard to look away from.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like that, sweetheart?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach breaks his gaze away to see Schof watching him with dark eyes. Watching Zach look at his dick, probably with some stupid expression on his face. Still, it’s clearly working for him, and with Schof back to coaxing him in that cheesy, sleazy, low-toned voice of his, it’s working for Zach too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Zach says finally, licking his lips. “Yeah it’s— yeah. Can you, uh. Could you touch yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof grins. “For you darling? Anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He closes his hand in a fist around the shaft and starts to fuck it. Zach watches his hands, how Schof will work the base for an extra short stroke, twist his thumb and forefinger in a tight circle around the head, panting harder as he does it. Zach leans forward instinctively, until he’s pressed up against Schof’s side, his elbow resting on the back of the couch over Schof’s shoulder. He breathes in Schof’s scent, a mix of spicy soap and the musky heat of sex and come.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach clears his throat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would you, um. Would you tell me how it feels?” he murmurs tentatively.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s gaze pulls like a magnet, right to Zach’s. His cheeks are stained from jaw to cheekbone with a patchy flush, the skin so red it looks like it would scald if Zach touched it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Feels amazing, baby,” Schof gasps out, eyes not leaving Zach’s face. “Touching myself, thinking about how you got all hot just sitting over my lap. How you let me touch you. How you felt, grinding all over my dick like you couldn’t help it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Zach can’t look away either. He leans even closer, watching as Schof’s face tightens and slackens, how his eyes go dark and a little squinty. His eyebrows keep pulling together in this stupidly hot frown, and he makes these—frankly unsexy—grunting noises that Zach picks up and hoards like precious stones.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What else?” he breathes, helplessly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof smirks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How wet your dick got when I touched you. And how your little tits felt in my hands, how perfect they fit, like you were made just for me, baby. <em>Zach</em>. How fucking ripped you are. How I could barely hold you down when you were coming. How you kissed me—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He cuts off with a groan, so close to the edge now, his dick shiny and dark. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a kind of weird, buzzy feeling in the pit of Zach’s stomach, thinking about the last thing Schof said, and when he does manage a smile it feels a bit unsteady, a bit lopsided. His face is so close to Schof’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” he says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof just stares at him, mouth a little open. He looks dumb. The buzzing in Zach’s bones rises to a fever pitch as he leans forward and kisses him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, which quickly turns into a groan as Zach tilts his head and deepens the kiss, desperately licking into Schof’s mouth before he can think about what he’s doing. That seems to work, as Schof’s free hand comes up to clutch at the back of his neck and hold him there, kissing back frantically as his other hand keeps working faster and faster between them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rhythmic motion of Schof’s shoulder in combination with the slick sounds in the room just spur Zach on further, and he can’t help the little moans he lets out as Schof takes control of the kiss, pulls Zach in closer and groans into his mouth as he comes, spilling hot between their bodies. Zach feels a graphically wet splash hit his arm and cringes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof breaks from the kiss, panting hard, but doesn’t let go of Zach just yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn, sweetness. You really know how to get a guy going,” he laughs, then pecks Zach once on the mouth in a move that disturbingly reminds Zach of some of his Italian relatives, before he finally releases him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s hands are covered in come, and Zach’s skin is starting to feel a little itchy. They’re both a mess, but Zach still hesitates to move, uncertain about what comes next and even less certain he wants to find out, careful of the fragile lines they’ve drawn around this thing—what can only be allowed with Schof’s arms around him like this. In Schof’s lap he feels a bit like a different person altogether, and he’s not sure he’s ready to go right back to normal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You gonna let me up now Saunders?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And like that—Schof saying his last name without a trace of teasing sweetness in his voice—Zach knows it’s over. He tips forward out of Schof’s lap and gets to the other side of the couch unsteadily, feeling a bit shaky in his skin. He pretends to concentrate really hard on getting his pants back up and fastened, ignoring the feeling of cooling come sticking his boxers to his skin, as Schof gets up and heads around the corner to the bathroom. His hands shake a little as he struggles with getting the button of his jeans through the hole, and he bites his lip until it hurts— the little spark of pain clearing his head enough for him to sit up and shake his hands out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All he has to do is keep it together long enough to get Schofield out of his apartment, and then he can freak out about the fact that he just came with another guy’s hands—with <em>Jamie fucking Schofield’s hands—</em>on his dick, with his voice in his ear, calling Zach pretty and groaning over his <em>tits</em>. Zach’s stomach clenches, and he stands up from the couch too fast, blinking through the stars that cross his vision as he makes his way quickly to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s where Schof finds him— chugging a glass of water over his kitchen sink and not looking at the back of his couch, not thinking about the come drying sticky in his pants. <em>Keep it together Saunders</em> he tells himself, sternly, <em>Keep it the fuck together for five goddamn minutes, that’s all</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay man?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach finishes his water and puts the glass down carefully. His grip is only a little white-knuckled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Totally fine,” he says, because there is absolutely <em>nothing</em> jarring about Schof calling him ‘man’. It’s literally an every day occurrence, totally normal. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach clears his throat and looks up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just trying not to do the awkward post-hookup send off,” he jokes, awkwardly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It doesn't land. Schof looks at him a little more carefully, then, tilting his head to the side like a bird.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not gonna tell anyone anything, so you can relax,” Schof says, after a long moment. And Zach hadn’t even been worried about <em>that</em> until like, literally this exact second. “It was just a one-off, yeah? We can forget about the whole thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach is absolutely, positively sure that he will never, ever forget this, but he forces himself to nod anyway like he agrees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For sure man. And same here, y’know, with the not telling— I mean, it’s forgotten already, right? So. We’re all good and I’ll just— I’ll see you around, or whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s head tilts even further, and Zach silently wishes for an anvil to drop out of the sky and kill him instantly, Looney Tunes style. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Several seconds pass in awkward silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright!” Zach says, clapping his hands together like an over-eager school teacher. He moves quickly around the counter and starts bodily shepherding Schof towards the door, determined to get the interaction to end.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So yeah I mean, thanks for coming over and thanks for uh, um— Well not <em>thanks</em> but you know— I mean, forget it! I’ll see you later… Tomorrow, maybe? ‘Cuz we have that thing, y’know, <em>practice,</em> and I’ll definitely see you there, so, great. That’s great. Goodbye now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach reaches for the door and Schof's hand closes gently over his on the knob, stilling him just before he can wrench it open and shove Schof out. He’s standing close—too close—and his face is calm and carefully neutral when he reaches out a hand to touch his fingers, lightly, ever so lightly, to Zach’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re shaking,” he says, low.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach’s mouth dries up like a desert. “That’s… No I’m not.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof fixes him with a pointed, unimpressed look. “You should have said something Saunders. I know I kind of sprang that on you out of nowhere. It’s okay to need a minute to come down after.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach tries to take a step back, but he doesn’t manage to go far in the narrow hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Believe it or not, <em>Schofield, </em>but my dick <em>has</em> been touched before. Thanks, but I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah? And that other stuff?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach colours involuntarily, but stands his ground. “Drop it <em>50 Shades</em>, I’m cool. It’s not like you were chaining me up and whipping me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah? You got a lot of experience with that, Saunders?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof doesn’t wait for an answer, rolling his eyes as he pulls out his phone, fingers moving fast over the screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing?” Zach asks impatiently.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ordering you food,” Schof says without looking up. “M’not leaving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like fuck you aren’t,” Zach protests, but he doesn’t do anything to stop Schof from turning around and marching right back into his apartment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You want banana or blueberry pancakes?” he calls from Zach’s living room, and Zach stomps after him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Neither,” he says. “Leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof squints at him for a second. “I’m sensing banana,” he says finally, thumbing again at his screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously Schof this isn’t funny. I’m fine, you can leave now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof puts his phone down and looks at him directly. “Are you still wearing the boxers that you jizzed in?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that pulls Zach up short.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are your shorts full of come right now, Zach?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He asks the question very calmly, like there’s nothing weird or inappropriate about it. Like they even remotely know each other like that. Zach shifts on his feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well I haven’t had a chance to change yet because <em>you won’t leave my fucking apartment</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof’s mouth ticks up in a small smile. “Go do it right now. The food won’t be here for a bit, go clean yourself up and put on something comfortable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach squints at him and doesn’t budge. “You’re totally doing a <em>thing</em> right now, aren’t you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof doesn’t blink. “I’m not doing anything. I just want you to be comfortable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach sighs. “If I do this will you <em>please</em> leave?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof hums noncommittally. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach rolls his eyes but goes to his bedroom, figuring the sonner he lets Schof do his pointless mother-henning the faster he’ll realize that Zach is, indeed, fine and will get the fuck out of his apartment. It’s in that spirit that he peels himself out of his come-soaked briefs and does a quick wipe of everything with a washcloth. It does make him feel a little better, but that’s just because it’s hard <em>not</em> to feel better when your dick isn’t straight stewing in jizz.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pads back out into the living room in loose sweats and thick socks, rolling his eyes when Schof gives him a pleased little smile. Then Schof pats the couch next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you come sit with me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach hesitates. It’s stupid, but he’s not sure he’s quite ready to be so close to Schof on the very couch that they both just climaxed on, not even ten minutes ago. Schof, of course, notices the pause and tilts his head again. The gesture is quickly getting on Zach’s nerves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or we could go sit on your bed, if you prefer,” Schof says neutrally, again reading Zach way too well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It makes Zach want to curl his fingers into fists.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” he says instead, marching over to the couch. “This is fine. Ten minutes, and then you have to go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zach,” Schof starts as Zach plants himself on the far end, but Zach cuts him off before he can start.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. Shut up. This is stupid. All you did was call me pretty while you touched my dick and— and—” <em>treated me like something sweet, something pretty and delicate and— and something like a girl </em>“…I’m <em>fine, </em>I swear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof purses his lips and screws his face up into a serious expression, considering.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I believe that Zach. The food is on its way now, so I can leave if that’s what you want—I totally get needing time alone right now. Just promise me that you’ll eat something, and just— Try not to get in your head about… everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach sits back quietly at that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He does want to be alone—it’s what he’s wanted ever since it occurred to him that Schof was gonna leave, the second they were done with the dick-touching. But now, faced with the choice of it, the thought of his apartment, silent and empty—only him and his spiralling thoughts to fill the space—it makes him want to crawl out of his skin just a little.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine,” he says to Schof, squaring his shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof nods once, like that settles it, and moves to get up off the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach’s hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist. “But you don’t have to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof doesn’t make him explain. He just relaxes back down against the couch and nods again. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” Zach says back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof pats the couch again, “Come here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach eyes the spot warily, but eventually scoots over and lets Schof pull him down against his side.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ten minutes,” Zach grunts, slightly muffled by the fabric of Schof’s shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmmm,” Schof hums. “Just until the food gets here. Then I’m gonna feed you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach rolls his eyes. “Just fucking try it, bud.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof laughs. Then, in a more serious tone. “You know it’s perfectly okay to want—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jamie,” Zach interrupts. The sound of his first name makes Schof fall instantly silent. “<em>Please</em> shut up. Just. No talking about it right now, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof pets his hand across the top of Zach’s chest, soothing, and acquiesces. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh and Jamie?” Zach smiles up at him sweetly, loving the quick tick of Schof’s attention the second that Zach says his name. “I don’t like banana pancakes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Schof snorts softly and chucks Zach lightly under the chin. “S’okay princess, I ordered myself blueberry just in case. You can have mine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zach smiles, and tucks his face down against the soft give of Schof’s stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading, comments and kudos appreciated!</p><p>((I made a <a href="https://twitter.com/7sevener">twitter</a> to publicly agonize over my WIPs if you wanna come hang out!))</p></blockquote></div></div>
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